The Chrestomanci Series: Entire Collection Books 1-7

“What?” Rinaldo seemed astounded. “What kind of fool do you take me for, Paolo? I’m not going to take on a whole family of spell-makers single-handed. And if I go there and use a spell, and they do something to Tonino, everyone’s going to blame me, aren’t they? For something we know anyway. It’s not worth it, Paolo. But I tell you what—”

He was interrupted by Aunt Gina trumpeting below in the yard. “Notti’s is the only chemist open by now. Tell him it’s for Niccolo Montana!”

With some relief, Paolo dropped the elegant attitude entirely and leant over the rail to watch Lucia and Corinna hurry through the yard with the doctor’s prescription. The sight gave his stomach a wrench of worry. “Do you think Old Niccolo’s going to die, Rinaldo?”

Rinaldo shrugged. “Could be. He’s pretty old. It’s about time the old idiot gave up anyway. I shall be one step closer to being head of the Casa Montana then.”

A peculiar thing happened inside Paolo’s head then. He had never given much thought to who might follow Antonio – for it was clear his father would follow Old Niccolo – as head of the Casa Montana. But he had never, for some reason, thought it might be Rinaldo. Now he tried to imagine Rinaldo doing the things Old Niccolo did. And as soon as he did, he saw Rinaldo was quite unsuitable. Rinaldo was vain, and selfish – and cowardly, provided he could be a coward and still keep up a good appearance. It was as if Rinaldo had said a powerful spell to clear Paolo’s eyes.

It never occurred to Rinaldo, expert spell-maker though he was, that a few ordinary words could make such a difference. He bent towards Paolo and dropped his voice to a melodious murmur. “I was going to tell you, Paolo. I’m going round enlisting all the young ones. We’re going to swear to work a secret revenge on the Petrocchis. We’ll do something worse than make them eat their words. Are you with me? Will you swear to join the plan?”

Maybe he was in earnest. It would suit Rinaldo to work in secret, with lots of willing helpers. But Paolo was sure that this plan was a step in Rinaldo’s plans to be head of the Casa. Paolo sidled away along the rail.

“Are you game?” Rinaldo whispered, laughing a little.

Paolo sidled beyond grabbing-distance. “Tell you later.” He turned and scudded away. Rinaldo laughed and did not try to catch him. He thought Paolo was scared.

Paolo went down into the yard, feeling more lonely than he had felt in his life. Tonino was not there. Tonino was not vain, or selfish, or cowardly. And nobody would help him find Tonino. Paolo had not noticed until now how much he depended on Tonino. They did everything important together. Even if Paolo was busy on his own, he knew Tonino was there somewhere, sitting reading, ready to put his book down if Paolo needed him. Now there seemed to be nothing for Paolo to do. And the whole Casa reeked of worry.

He went to the kitchen, where there seemed, at last, to be something happening. All his small cousins were there. Rosa and Marco were trying to make soup for them.

“Come in and help, Paolo,” Rosa said. “We’re going to put them to bed after soup, but we’re having a bit of trouble.”

Both she and Marco were looking tired and flustered. Most of the little ones were grizzling, including the baby. The trouble was Lucia’s spell. Paolo understood this because Marco dumped the baby in his arms. Its wrapper was covered with orange grease. “Yuk!” said Paolo.

“I know,” said Rosa. “Well, Marco, better try again. Clean saucepan. Clean water. The very last packet of soup-powder – don’t make that face, Paolo. We’ve got through all the vegetables. They just sail away to the waste-bins, and they’re mouldy before they get there.”

Paolo looked nervously at the door, wondering if the enemy enchanter was powerful enough to overhear him. “Try a cancel-spell,” he whispered.

“Aunt Gina went through them all this afternoon,” said Rosa. “No good. Little Lucia used the Angel of Caprona, you see. We’re trying Marco’s way now. Ready, Marco?”

Rosa opened the packet of soup and held it over the saucepan. As the dry pink powder poured into the water, Marco leant over the saucepan and sang furiously. Paolo watched them nervously. This was just what the message told them not to do, he was sure. When all the powder was in the water, Rosa and Marco peered anxiously into the saucepan. “Have we done it?” asked Marco.

“I think—” Rosa began, and ended in a yell of exasperation. “Oh no!” The little pasta shells in the powder had turned into real sea-shells, little grey ones. “With creatures in!” Rosa said despairingly, dipping a spoonful out. “Where is Lucia?” she said. “Bring her here. Tell her I—No, don’t. Just fetch her, Paolo.”

“She’s gone to the chemist,” said Paolo.

There was shouting in the yard. Paolo passed the greasy baby to the nearest cousin and shot outside, dreading another sick yellow message about Tonino. Or there was just a chance the noise was Lucia.

It was neither. It was Rinaldo. The uncles must have left the Scriptorium, for Rinaldo was making a bonfire of spells in the middle of the yard. Domenico, Carlo and Luigi were busily carrying armfuls of scrips, envelopes and scrolls down from the gallery. Paolo recognised, already curling among the flames, the army-charms he and the other children had spent such a time copying. It was a shocking waste of work.

“This is what the Petrocchis have forced us to!” shouted Rinaldo, striking an attitude beside the flames. It was evidently part of his plan to enlist the young ones.

Paolo was glad to see Antonio and Uncle Lorenzo hurry out of the Saloon.

“Rinaldo!” shouted Antonio. “Rinaldo, we’re worried about Umberto. We want you to go to the University and enquire.”

“Send Domenico,” said Rinaldo, and turned back to the flames.

“No,” said Antonio. “You go.” There was something about the way he said it that caused Rinaldo to back away from him.

“I’ll go,” said Rinaldo. He held up one hand, laughing. “I was only joking, Uncle Antonio.”

He left at once. “Take those spells back,” Uncle Lorenzo said to the other three cousins. “I hate to see good work wasted.” Domenico, Carlo and Luigi obeyed without a word. Antonio and Uncle Lorenzo went to the bonfire and tried to stamp out the flames, but they were burning too strongly. Paolo saw them look at one another, rather guiltily, and then lean forward and whisper a spell over the fire. It flicked out as if it had been turned off with a switch. Paolo sighed worriedly. It was plain that no one in the Casa Montana could drop the habit of using spells. He wondered how long it would be before the enemy enchanter noticed.

“Fetch a light!” Antonio shouted to Domenico. “And sort out the ones that aren’t burnt.”

Paolo went back to the kitchen before they asked him to help. The bonfire had given him an idea.

“There is quite a bit of mince,” Rosa was saying. “Dare we try with that?”

“Why don’t you,” said Paolo, “take the food to the dining room? I’ll light a fire there, and you can cook it on that.”

“The boy’s a genius!” said Marco.

They did that. Rosa cooked by relays and Marco made cocoa. The children were fed first, Paolo included. Paolo sat on one of the long benches, thinking it was almost enjoyable – except if he thought of Tonino, or Old Niccolo in bed upstairs. He was very pleased and surprised when a sudden bundle of claw and warm-iron muscle landed on his knee. Benvenuto was missing Tonino too. He rubbed against Paolo with a kind of desperation, but he would not purr.

Rosa and Marco were getting up to put the young ones to bed, when there was a sudden great clanging, outside in the night.

“Good Heavens!” said Rosa, and opened the yard door.

The noise flooded in, an uneven metal sound, hasty and huge. The nearest – clang-clang-clang – was so near that it could only be the bell of Sant’ Angelo’s. Behind it, the bell of the Cathedral tolled. And beyond that, now near, now faint and tinny, every bell in every church in Caprona beat and boomed and clashed and chimed. Corinna and Lucia came racing in, their faces bright with cold excitement.

“We’re at war! The Duke’s declared war!”

Marco said he thought he had better go. “Oh no, don’t!” Rosa cried out. “Not yet. By the way, Lucia—”

Lucia took a quick look at the cooking in the hearth. “I’ll go and take Aunt Gina the prescription,” she said, and prudently ran away.

Marco and Rosa looked at one another. “Three States against us and no spells to fight with,” said Marco. “We’re not likely to have a long and happy marriage, are we?”

“Mr Notti says the Final Reserve is being called up tomorrow,” Corinna said encouragingly. She caught Rosa’s eye. “Come on, you kids,” she said to four cousins at random. “Bedtime.”

While the young ones were being put to bed, Paolo sat nursing Benvenuto, feeling more dismal than ever. He wondered if there would be soldiers from Florence and Pisa and Siena in Caprona by tomorrow. Would guns fire in the streets? He thought of big marble chips shot off the Cathedral, the New Bridge broken, despite all the spells in it, and swarthy enemy soldiers dragging Rosa off screaming. And he saw that all this could really have happened by the end of the week.

Here, he became quite certain that Benvenuto was trying to tell him something. He could tell from the accusing stare of Benvenuto’s yellow eyes. But he simply could not understand.

“I’ll try,” he said to Benvenuto. “I really will try.”

He had, fleetingly, the feeling that Benvenuto was glad. Encouraged by this, Paolo bent his head and stared at Benvenuto’s urgent face. But it did no good. All that Paolo could get out of it was a picture in his mind – a picture of somewhere with a coloured marble front, very large and beautiful.

“The Church of Sant’ Angelo?” he said doubtfully.

While Benvenuto’s tail was still lashing with annoyance, Rosa and Marco came back. “Oh dear!” Rosa said to Marco. “There’s Paolo taking all the troubles of the Casa on his shoulders again!”

Paolo looked up in surprise.

Marco said, “You look just like Antonio sometimes.”